


Christmas Future

by Oparu



Series: When the bell tolls three [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Childbirth, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 14:05:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13191639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: Emma panics and accidentally traps Mal, Regina, Killian, Henry and herself on the Jolly Roger when Mal goes into labor. Which isn't really the worst thing that's happened to anyone having a baby, but not the best either.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [demisexualemmaswan](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=demisexualemmaswan).



Eight days means nothing. The internet says some potential little ball of cells hasn’t even implanted itself in her uterus yet. Her period is just late because she’s stressed, and if she has to look at another negative on a pregnancy test she’ll explode. It’s too much. Christmas with her family is a several day extravaganza of cookies, food and presents, and everyone around her is engaged in having and raising children. Neal’s ready for pre-school, Robin’s in daycare, Ara’s walking and babbling at her mothers, and her parents can’t stop talking about how wonderful little Sam is.

It’s so easy for them. David and Snow wanted another baby and they get pregnant a month after they mentioned they were trying. Mal and Regina do a spell out in the woods and Mal’s pregnant again. (Emma kind of wants to ask, but doesn’t, because Regina will most definitely not tell her, but Mal would definitely tell her and she’s not sure which version she wants).

Everyone around her just has babies, without worrying or waiting or going months and months where nothing happens, no matter how many times they have sex. No matter what tea she drinks or how long she lies in bed afterwards. She can’t have a baby. She had Henry under the worst of circumstances, but now that she’s happy, now that she has Killian and her family, now she can’t one.

Emma looks up from the website that says she should take a pregnancy test and sets her phone down. “Ready to go?”

Mal’s hair shifts on her shoulders, golden against her dark coat as she straightens her back. She pulls her hat on and sighs.  "The year end for Storybrooke is a mess of tax liabilities, fiscal reports for construction projects and infrastructure. I don’t know how Regina did it without me.“

"Time wasn’t passing for most of it.” Emma tucks her phone into her own coat and grabs Mal’s briefcase. “Maybe that helped.”

Mal doesn’t argue with her about carrying the briefcase. She rests her hands on her lower back, which only emphasizes how very pregnant she is. Emma can’t help staring at the way her belly sticks out through her coat. There’s something so serene about the way she carries herself. Her mom gets cute, kind of rounder and softer, and then she frets about the baby weight and how her clothes don’t fit.

Somehow Mal makes pregnancy pretty. Maybe it’s because she’s tall. Regina says she has the normal complaints: her feet hurt and there are stretch marks on her belly, but she’s so beautiful.

So happy.

Could that be her? Killian laughing and rubbing her feet, feeling the baby kick. He loves feeling the little dragon. He’d love knowing it was their baby. She should be able to give that to him, let him hold their baby and watch her walk the way he’s watched Ara, Neal and Robin.

Emma stares too long.

Mal tilts her head in that studying her prey sort of way. “Emma?”

“Sorry, sheriff’s station had a lot of paperwork too.”

“Well, your funding is secure, and I made sure you enough money for an extra police cruiser, just in case something happens to one.” Mal winces, shifting her feet. Her back must be sore again, like it was when Emma brought her coffee.

“Like a small fire?”

Mal smiles at her, but it breaks. Something hurts.

Oh fuck.

She’s due in January, but it’s almost January. After Christmas is nearly January, and fuck. Where’s Regina?

Torn between grabbing her phone and taking Mal’s arm, maybe helping her sit down, somehow Emma does all of these things at once, backing Mal into a chair with her phone in hand.

“Emma, I’m fine.”

“That was a contraction.”

Mal nods, taking Emma’s arm above her wrist. “It wasn’t bad.”

“You say that.”

“I’m allowed to say that.”

“Do you need to sit down? Did your water?”

“Emma.” Mal’s other hand touches her cheek, warm and steady. “It took more than twenty hours to have Araceli. There’s absolutely no hurry.”

That’s easy for her to say. “Where’s Regina?”

“At Granny’s with Henry and Killian, waiting for us.”

“Mal–”

“We should go.”

“We can’t just go.”

Mal chuckles, refusing the chair. “Why not?”

“You’re having a baby.”

“Tomorrow, or the next day, or it’s just a false alarm.”

“No, that hurt, I saw.” She was in pain, and she wasn’t safe. It’s not safe at Granny’s or here. If Maleficent’s having the baby, she needs to be safe. Somewhere–

She didn’t mean to, but mist takes them, sweeping both of them away. Did Mal teleport them? Is it a curse? The mist fades away and they’re on the deck of the _Jolly Roger_ , the winter wind smells like ice and salt.

“How did we?”

“Emma?”

She and Mal turn, and there they are: Henry, Killian and Regina, all standing there without their coats, like they were around a table.

“What happened?”

Mal reaches over and squeezes Emma’s hand. “We teleported.”

“Why are we here?” Regina wraps her arms around her chest and Mal starts taking off her coat.

“We should get below, the wind is ruthless in the winter,” Killian points at the way below. “We can argue about it where we’re warm.”

Mal’s hand remains in hers as they walk down. She’s having a baby and she’s the one comforting Emma. Below deck, Killian and Henry start lighting a fire and Regina kisses Mal’s cheek.

“Are you all right?”

“Back’s a little sore.”

“Like yesterday?”

“Worse.”

“You should sit.” Regina fusses, helping Mal take off her coat and hat.

“I’m all right, dear.”

Henry and Killian share a look and Emma stares at her hands. Did she do this? She brought them out to an ancient pirate ship in the middle of the Atlantic.

“Wasn’t she docked?” Henry whispers.

“Aye, but magic has moved the ship before.” He shrugs, tossing some more wood into the stove. “A little fire, if you would, your majesty.”

Regina tosses a fireball without looking. “How far from shore are we?”

Killian looks through the porthole then ducks into the captain’s cabin, grabbing his spyglass. He looks, but shakes his head. “A good ways, I can’t see any of the landmarks, none of the lights.”

Henry looks at his parents, “Okay, so we were in Storybrooke, now we’re here. Can we go back?”

Regina raises her eyebrows. “If we can’t even see shore? I can’t usually teleport that far, with extra people, and the ship.”

Mal presses her lips tight together, holding on to the post. Regina doesn’t see her wince, but she did. Fuck. Twenty hours isn’t enough time to get back to shore, is it? Can they reach a port? Where are they? Who could have brought them all the way out here?

Did she?

Does Emma have that kind of power? Regina can’t bring them back. Maleficent can’t bring them back. How did they even get out here?

Henry pulls out his phone and looks at her. “Do you have signal on your phone?”

Emma glances down and shakes her head. “No.”

“Me neither.”

Killian takes out his phone and shakes his head. “Nor do I.”

Regina sighs, pacing towards the sleeping cabin. “I could try to reach Storybrooke.”

“No,” Mal’s voice is soft, almost still, and Regina turns to her.

“I’ve done it before.”

“Regina, you need to stay.”

“I can try.”

Regina turns, almost snapping. “Why do I? I can do it, Mal.”

"I don't doubt you, just stay here, please." 

Emma gulps as her stomach clenches. It’s way too early for her to be nauseated because of some ball of cells. She wants to throw up because she’s trapped them. Mal’s having the baby and she’s on a boat and fuck she’s made such a mess.

“Maybe I should go.”

“You’re teleporting is still all over the place. It’s much too far,” Regina dismisses her and it’s almost snappy.

She doesn’t know.

Mal’s fingers go white and the little whimper she tries to hide just about echoes in the galley, even though the wind’s screaming and the wood creaks.

“Maleficent?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

And then they’re all staring in a half-circle, Killian, Henry, Regina and Emma herself. Mal exhales, slowly, careful to control her breath, but it has to hurt. Emma knows pain, she can see it in the way Mal’s forehead tightens.

“Trust me,” Regina whispers, losing her edge entirely. “Please.”

“The little one doesn’t want to wait for January.”

Regina grabs her arms, looking up at her face. “Today?”

“Tomorrow,” Mal insists, chuckling. “It’s never quick.”

“Here?”

Henry’s face mirrors the worry on Killian’s. A pirate ship is no place to have a baby. They should be home. They should go home, be somewhere safe–

Light radiates outward from Emma’s chest, glowing as it envelops the ship.

“What the hell?”

“Mom?”

Mal breathes through the contraction, her eyes fixed on Regina’s. “Protection spell.”

“Why did you cast a protection spell?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Emma puts her hands up, as if that will make her magic stop.

“It’s all right,” Mal says, somehow her voice is the most even.

“We’re trapped on a filthy pirate ship in the middle of the Atlantic, and you’re in labor, how can that possibly be all right?”

“It’s not filthy,” Killian mutters.

Henry touches Regina’s shoulder, and even that doesn’t calm her. “Mom, it’s okay. Mal’s okay.”

“Henry, you don’t–”

“I’m sorry,” Emma says, and the words catch in her throat. “I’m so sorry.”


	2. Chapter 2

"Emma's, it's all right."

"It's not all right!"

Mal kisses Regina's forehead, somehow both patronizing and incredibly sweet. "I'm fine."

Regina swallows her protest. "What can we do?"

Killian touches Emma's back, rubbing his hand across her shoulders. "The ship's weather tight, we have plenty of wood, we'll be all right. When the wind dies down we can get our bearings, figure out how to get back. From the weather, I'd say we haven't gone that far from Storybrooke. It's just as miserable here as it was there." 

"So we're not that far, but the weather's too bad to sail back and we can't teleport back," Henry says, putting it together in his head. It's a good thing he's here, and Killian because Emma's quietly going nuts and Regina isn't going to be able to think at all.

And Mal- fuck- Emma's doomed her to have her baby on a pirate ship. (A nice pirate ship, but still. They don't even have electricity other than the little stick on lights she got online. Killian agreed they were pretty fantastic once she explained how they worked. What else do they have? Some spare clothing, rain coats, some spare thick wool coats from the Nautilus, old shirts, bandages, sail canvas. Nothing they can wrap a baby in. Maybe one of Killian's older undershirts? Something soft. 

Regina's voice just about vibrates with worry but she's steady, other than her white knuckled grip on Maleficent's hand. "If you have a mirror I can try and contact Storybrooke with magic, Lily should be able to hear me, she'll be worried when we're not at dinner." 

"She'll be terrified."

"I'll find her, that at least I know I can do over a great distance, luckily here, we still have magic."

Emma should do something. Anything. She needs to go outside, get a few deep breaths of ice cold air. "I'll go check the protection spell I cast, maybe it's not as bad." 

"Your protection spells are some of your best, dear," Mal reminds her with the same calm she's had since they left the office. How can she be okay with this? "I imagine it's a response to your concern."

"Guess you're pretty attached to the little dragon," Henry keeps his voice light, and he smiles, but Killian's arm moves up to hug her shoulders. 

"Having a baby in Storybrooke is rarely without incident." Killian fidgets with his hook and the edge of the stove. "Until Ara and Sam, all the children born here were under the shadow of some sort of magical peril."

"Let's hope things have improved." Mal's smile has a real warmth. She can't possibly find this funny, can she?

"As far as I know, the  _ Jolly Roger  _ has yet to be anyone's birthplace, however..." he trails into a sigh. "I think it could work."

Regina almost growls. "Unacceptable." 

"Mom-"

"Regina-"

There's absolutely nothing Emma can do about this argument. She brought them here, she trapped them; for all she knows, she's the one ruining their cell phone signal. Fleeing above deck, she only has the sea to apologize to. The wind moans more than the argument, and the ice in the air bites at her, even when she pulls her coat high. Killian's right, there's no sign of the lighthouses, not through the growing storm, and the stars are hidden in the black. Snow falls like sand, hissing against the rigging. 

The protection spell hums just past the edge of the ship, calling to her magic. She walks to the rail and reaches out for it, stroking it like it's a glass wall. It glows golden when she touches it, and the rush of magic in response reminds her of a puppy. It's happy she's here, happy it exists. Like a fucking golden retriever, it just wants to keep them safe. From cell phones and teleporting and goblins or gremlins or whatever creature someone's forgotten to tell her about. Leaning on the rail, she shuts her eyes and listens to the wind and the sea. It's so cold that her face stings and the rigging has traces of ice, but the ship is home. It's safe.

Is that why they're here? Did she bring them all here to be safe? 

"Mom?"

She didn't notice her eyes were wet until she turns, wiping her tears away. Must be the cold. "What is it?"

Henry stands by the wheel, wearing Mal's coat, hilariously enough. It almost suits him, thick and wool. He's growing up so fast. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, fine, guess I just panicked up a protection spell."

"Could be a curse, weirder stuff has happened." His smile comes so easily that she wants to hug him. He wrinkles his nose a little, then stakes a step closer, and all his wisdom fades from his face and he's her little boy again. "Is Mal okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, come here." She hugs him tight. "She's only a little uncomfortable right now."

"But it'll get worse."

"Yeah." she can't lie to him, he was in the house when Araceli was born, he he must have heard things, and he knows how long that was. There's no need to make him worry, but he's not an kid. "It fucking hurts, like you did, but it's worth it." 

"Because you love your baby." 

"You'd do anything for that baby, even before you see her, or him." Even when they're a stupid little ball of cells that might not even make it to the baby stage. She'd do anything for them, including drag them across the sea to be somewhere safe. Reaching out, she tries to focus on Storybrooke, on home, on that feeling of contentment she gets in her living room, or wrapped up with Killian in bed. None of that calls to her. They're here, and she brought them, but why? What does her heart know that she can't hear? 

"Is it safe to have a baby here? Sam was born in the hospital there were things, lots of things, and scrubs, and even when they had Ara at the house, Nurse Ratched came, we don't have that."

If they have to tie the cord with Emma's bootlace and cut it with Killian's dagger, they will. The baby will be safe and loved. The protection spell around the ship shimmers for a moment, as if sharing Emma's thought. She did this. She freaked the fuck out and trapped them, because she's overprotective about nothing. A stupid ball of cells that probably won't make it. 

"She'll be okay, I promise."

"Yeah?"

"She's a dragon, that's gotta help.."

Henry hugs her, holding her tight while the deck rocks beneath them. It'll be all right, everyone will be all right, because they can't get back, but at least they're here, they have each other, and out of all of them Mal's the least worried, which is kind of funny. 

"Okay."

"Sorry you're out here, kid."

"It's fine. I'm pretty good at sailing the ship for the way back or keeping the fire going." He squeezes her tight before letting go. "We got this."

He's so Regina in that moment with a big smile on his face and all that worry in his eyes. He's a good kid, the best kid, which is why she can't help wanting one so badly that she's made a mess. Fuck, she needs to apologize to Mal, to Regina, to Killian because he's so proud of how clean the decks are below and having a baby is a mess he probably doesn't want to engage in.

But he's so good with the kids. So calm, so happy to pick up Sam when he needs it or talk Ara down from her tantrums and tie Neal's shoes. He wants to be a dad as much as she wants to be a mom to this little kid who's not even a kid. She can't get her hopes up, because it might not work and she can't take that. Not again. It's been years and it's just not fair. 

Is she jealous? Her mother had a baby and Mal's having a baby and it's just so easy for everyone else to have their second chance. 

Emma deserves hers. 

"Come in, kid, it's cold up here."

Back below deck, Regina sits at the galley table, mirror in hand while she looks for Lily. Mal stands braced between a post and Killian, who has his hand on her lower back and he smiles. So calm.

"Lily? Lily can you hear me?"

The reflection's kind of distorted, like they're looking out of something twisted, deformed somehow. They can see Lily's chest, Ara in her high chair, Zelena moving in the background and little Robin, playing with the salt shaker. 

"Put that down," Regina mutters, always a mom, even when there's a crisis. 

"Auntie Regina!" Robin says, forgetting the salt and smiling at them. Where are they? What are they looking out of?"

A napkin holder. They're on the table, looking out of the stainless steel side of a napkin holder. "Robin, get Mummy or Lily I need to talk to them."

"Mummy, mummy, Regina want you." 

"What is it, kiddo?" Lily moves the salt shaker out of reach and Regina's little smile of relief makes Emma's heart warm. 

"Regina!" Robin says proudly, pointing at them with her hand. "Look, it's Regina."

"Mom?" Lily asks, her face changing from skeptical too relieved in a moment. "Mom why are you in napkins?"

"Long story." 

Lily tils the damn thing so they can see her better. "Okay, curse? Magically trapped somewhere, that kind of long story?"

"Exactly. Are you all right? Is Storybrooke?"

"Yeah, yeah we're fine. Granny already gave Ara dinner and we were just going to order because you were late. Really late, and you didn't text."

"Sorry, we don't have reception."

"Yeah, I figured, with the calling through reflective surfaces and all. Are you okay? Do we need to come get you?"

Regina struggles, her free hand flat and stiff against the table, and her knuckles going white holding the mirror. "We're fine. Killian thinks he can sail us back when the storm lets up. We're probably just a little further than the lighthouses."

"Probably?"

"We're working on it, don't worry." 

"Regina, why are you speaking out of there?" Zelena interrupts from the side. "What happened?"

"We're cursed, mildly. Magic's trapped us in the Jolly Roger."

"Us? Meaning?"

"Henry, Mal, Emma, Killian and I." 

"Oh good, she's with you. Wouldn't want her going into labor here while you were there, having you miss the big show and all." Zelena jokes easily, because she knows how hard it is to have a baby in Storybrooke without it being a dramatic event. 

"Take care of the town, we should be back in the morning, or as soon as the snow calms. Keep an eye on Araceli."

"I've got her. We're good." Lily smiles but it falters, as if she has to work to keep herself calm. "And Mom's-?"

"I'm here, dear."

Regina's little hand mirror will just make everyone dizzy if she turns it to show Mal, which is probably for the best. There's sweat along her hairline now and the hand on Killian's shoulder is keeping her balanced. 

This is real. This is happening. She trapped them on the fucking ship and they're going to deliver a baby. 

"You're okay?"

'We're fine. I've always liked this little ship."

Killian raises an eyebrow and mouths "little" while Regina saves Mal from having to pretend it doesn't hurt any longer. 

"We love you. I'll call you again."

"I'll get a mirror so you don't appear in the microwave or something."

"Thanks Lily."

"Bye Moms, Emma- everyone." 

"Bye Regina!" Robin calls, because she likes phone calls. This is probably even more fun for her. 

"They seemed fine," Regina reports, setting the mirror down and standing up, her hand falling to her stomach because in spite of the smile and the way she appears cal, her wife is having a baby and she's a wreck. She'll be a wreck until this is over, but no one's going to know. 

Except, Emma glances around and realizes that they all know. Henry pats her shoulder, Killian keeps Mal steady and Mal looks at Regina with such naked adoration that it hurts to watch. 

The good hurt. 

"All right, well, that's that then."

"It's fine, Regina." Mal hiss of pain suggests its anything but, and Regina's around the table and across the galley in a moment. 

"It's not fine."

"It's a contraction, dear, they happen." 

This one should go easier, giving birth to Ara did all the hard work with her hips. The ship's warm and tight but they could make it warmer, if they need to. Mal's never cold though.

"How is it?"

"A little sore."

"A little." Regina lowers her eyes, shaking her head. "I love you."

"I know." They wrap together, and Emma should stop looking. Killian finds her and holds her almost as tight. 

"It'll be all right, Swan. The ship's not dirty. We can boil water, I have cloth, blankets, some old shirts."

Wrapping a baby in an old scruffy pirate shirt and putting her in half a rum barrel to sleep is kind of Christmasey. 

"You should make dinner." Maybe Mal just wants them all distracted, or perhaps she's worried they forgot that originally, they were going to meet at Granny's and have dinner. All of them stare at her. 

"What?" Regina blinks, shaking her head. "Mal--"

"All of you should eat." 

Regina tuts and starts to explain that she's perfectly fine, and Henry and Killian look at each other and turn to the cupboards, already planning something. Emma's not sure what's stashed away on board but Henry's been learning about sailing and they have canned goods, and poptarts. 

Mal's right. This is going to take a while and they still have to sail home tomorrow. They need to eat, find something to do. Thy can't just hang out and binge-watch nature shows and true crime like they did when Ara was born. They need to do something or they'll drive each other nuts. 

Mal removes her cardigan and unbuttons the top of her shirt. 

Emma reaches for her, her hand leading so her words have to follow. "I have things you can wear, well, they're Killian's, or maybe another pirate's but they won't mind." 

"Pirate shirts? Really?" Regina has that scornful look that hides terror just beneath the surface and Emma could hug her. Someone's probably going to have to. She just barely held it together when Ara was born. She cried almost as much as Maleficent did, and she didn't even have the emotional haze of hormones to blame.

The mirror doesn't ring like a phone, Snow's voice just arrives, disembodied in the galley from Regina's pocket. 

"Regina?"

Emma can save Mal from this. "Let's get changed." 

Walking her into the captain's cabin, Emma eyes the bed, and the desk, everything's secured down, there's a rope she can rig from the ceiling so she has something to hang onto if she wants to stand up, and the floor is easily washed. Killian's meticulous about that. There's not much they can do to protect the bed, no plastic sheeting, but there has to be a tarp somewhere, maybe oilcloth. What did they do in the old world anyway? Straw? Just burn the bed when all of it was done? 

Mal unbuttons her shirt as soon as the door's closed, sighing as she pulls it from her shoulders. Sweat clings to her skin, golden in the lamplight. 

"You're warm already?"

"I'm always warm." Mal takes off her bra without telling Emma to look away, or even so much as a warning and Emma looks up, forcing herself to look at her face. 

"Sore?"

"Everything is sore, and sticky." Mal's very elegant tailored pants are actually the maternity kind with elastic and Emma chuckles. "I didn't know you owned these."

"Regina cheated with magic, Rumple helped. Most of the clothing they offer you is terrible. I will make sure you have things that aren't bad." 

"Me?" Emma wasn't sure she could blush that fast, or if her face could actually be that hot. "I'm not--"

"I can smell it." Mal shuts her eyes, taking Emma's hand and steadying her breathing. "That sounds too predatory, doesn't it?"

"You can smell pregnant?"

"All kinds-" she pauses, finding her breath again, "-of changes smell like something. Pregnancy, illness, puberty, it's a background to people Regina tells me humans don't have."

"Lily always did-" Emma cuts off, because her stupid memories don't matter. 

"Did what?"

"Knew when I had my period, like she was fucking psychic." 

Mal smiles, but her jaw remains tight. 

"It hurts."

"It does." She tilts her head, trying to elongate her spine. "I don't know why it hurts my back instead of my belly, like Ara."

"She's probably in a different place. We can keep walking around, I know there's not a lot of space, but that's what we did last time."

Mal opens her eyes, blinking tears away. "You remember?"

"The night Ara was born is kind of seared in my memory, I mean, a lot of things are stuck in there, some I'd rather weren't, but that was fine. It was nice."

Emma has to climb onto the bed to help ease one of the loose old pirate shirts over Mal's head. They changed the sheets after they slept here last, didn't they? Mal really doesn't seem to be the type to care. 

"Nice?"

"Intense, and boring, but nice. I- I like you, and Regina, you're good together, and you should be happy."

Mal has to take both of Emma's arms to stand up, but she smiles as Emma helps her into some of Killian's old deck cleaning pants. There's a hole near the knee, but Mal's sweating while the snow flies against the portholes, so she's probably fine. 

"We are happy."

"I think that's the nice part. Nothing came and took Ara, no ody grabbed her, or grabbed you, no curse fell. It was nice." 

Mal strokes her cheek, guiding Emma's hair back from her face. "I'm so glad you're finally--"

"Don't say it."

Mal kisses her forehead, and her tears are so hot they could burn. "I'm fine," Mal promises, her voice soft like old leather. "It's cozy, Regina's here. You're here, Killian, and Henry. I'm not afraid."

"I'm fucking terrified." Saying it makes it real, and she should not be the one trembling. She's not the one, it's not her night. She's not important. 

"That's okay."

They sway, or the ship does, and Emma holds her, is held tight, and it's warm and damp and smells like smoke, and cinnamon.

Regina has the mirror lying flat on the table, and Killian hands her a drink. Henry's at the stove, and the cinnamon and brown butter smell is pancakes. Easy enough to make on a pirate ship. 

"I should tie your hair back," Regina says, leaving her chair. She downs the rum in a quick motion, making a face. "You look ridiculous."

"It's really very comfortable." Mal sits, but she rest both of her hands on the table as if she'll be pulled away at any moment and needs to hang on. "Like a nightgown."

"You tucked it into your trousers," Killian explains, flipping pancakes beside Henry.

"I know the clothes of the old world, even your uniforms. Might have snuck aboard a ship myself, once or twice."

"This story I must hear."

Henry chuckles and sets a huge plate of pancakes in the middle of the table. "Sit, eat while she tells it." 

They're a little short on silverware, and Emma eats her pancakes more like a sandwich as Regina braids Mal's hair and Mal tells a ridiculous story about sneaking onto a treasure ship dressed as a man because she wanted some jewels they were bringing back from the far east.

Contractions are less bad when she's distracted, even though whatever it is against her back never lets up. Her breath only softens a little between contractions, but with Ara, it didn't hurt at all in between. It nags at Emma, because she should be able to do something. There's a way to try and help it. Why doesn't she remember? Did she ever know? Is this just wistful thinking because she's trapped them out here and she needs to fix something?

She should have just waited and trapped herself, had her own baby in the middle of nowhere instead of making Mal go through this. 

Can't be worse than prison. 

She remembers the cold metal against her feet, and has to look down and remind herself that the ship is wood. Her magic rises with her worries, racing like her nightmares, and the wood glows all around them, soft and golden.

"Emma?" 

She's not even sure what the fuck she's done now, but Regina nods.

'You made the ship warmer."

"I did?"

"That's a good thing."

They count, all wrapped up in breathing and waiting, trying to keep Mal talking, telling stories, staying with them. It's a kind of torture, slow, building in intensity, and Mal tries, she keeps her smile and holds their hands, but it has to wear on her. She's tough, but she hurts. Emma hears it. Regina's half-sick with worry, and her hand barely leaves her stomach. 

Killian runs his hand down Mal's back, tracing her spine with strong fingers while she leans against the hull. The vessel rocks a little with them, softer than it should be with the wind screaming the way it is. 

"That- there-" Mal's voice cuts through their senseless conversations, her pain breaking like water under the prow. "I don't know what you're doing but--"

Regina follows his fingers, pressing in against Mal's spine where Killian's hand sits. "Here?"

"Push harder."

Killian balls his hand into a fist and leans into it, into her, using more of his weight as Mal's little cry of release shivers through all of them. 

"There." 

"What's happening?" Henry asks over his phone. Damn thing has no signal, but it hasn't stopped him from trying. "Should we?"

Back labor. That's what it is. That's what she was trying to remember. "Get Mom, Grandma on the mirror, ask her about back labor."

"She doesn't even-" Henry starts but nods. "Okay."

Maybe Emma should save him from having that conversation, take the brunt of Snow's questions, because Regina's entire world is Mal, and Killian won't be moving for awhile yet.

"Emma?"

"Hi Mom."

Snow peers at her through the mirror from her living room, full of questions. "Emma what's happening? Why does Henry want to know about back labor."

"Just ask Zelena, google it, call Belle, what do we do?" 

"You're delivering the baby out there?"

"We're kind of stuck."

"Stuck?"

"I can't explain it, please, Mom, we--"

"I'm asking." Snow lifts up her phone and starts sending a text. "Is everyone all right? Henry sounded so worried."

Henry rolls his eyes behind the mirror. "I didn't."

"Mal's in labor, but it's okay. She's really tough."

"You're on a pirate ship." 

"I don't know why that bothers everyone. Plenty of babies were born at sea and were just fine," Killian mutters. Snow didn't quite hear that but Mal chuckles a little and Regina's sigh in response suggests she agrees with Snow. 

"Please, Mom."

"Your father's calling Belle, hang on." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit angsty because Emma has feelings to work through, but it ends all soft and happy

"They're trapped on the ship," David says, and his voice carries over the little mirror. "No, they don't seem to care about that, just Maleficent's in labor, and Emma says its in her back and they don't know what to do."

"Emma, ask how hard I can push on her spine. I don't want to hurt her."

"She's tough," Regina adds, but her voice sounds rough, like she's dragged it over stones. 

"Harder," Mal demands of him and Emma swallows. Why is this familiar? Why does she know what that burning, unceasing pain is like?

Snow turns the mirror towards her father, and there he stands by the gently glowing Christmas tree, phone pressed to his ear. 

"Belle says: hot compresses, changing positions, don't let her lie down, standing, leaning, sitting backwards on a chair, and pressure. The baby's head must be up against her spine and that sends it out of alignment so you have to push it back, that should alleviate the pain."

"You can push, Killian," Emma repeats, so he hears her. "Sounds like as hard as you want." 

David has yes in his face before he nods. "Yeah, whatever works. Belle says one of her books even suggests using a knee if you have to, and try tilting her pelvis in different ways, see if that helps." He pauses. "Usually it just means the baby's head is pressing against her spine." Even David winces about that. "Should we come get you?"

Emma stares at him as her mother moves to stand next to him. "How?"

"I'm sure we could find a way, we always find a way."

"We're at least twenty miles offshore in a snowstorm and there's a protection spell, I put a protection spell around the ship without meaning to. It's complicated. We can sail home tomorrow. Mal's okay."

"Emma, are you okay?"

"Me? I'm fine, I'm the idiot who got us stuck out here."

"You're not an idiot-"

"I'm sure there's something else going on-"

"If you want us to come get you I'm sure we can find a way--"

"I'm fine, guys, we're fine. I gotta go." Thinking the mirror dark makes it quiet, and it's a relief to stare up at her own worried face. 

Regina and Killian both fuss over Mal, trying to figure out how to get the right amount of weight against her spine to keep the pain away. It's intense, but it's soothing how they talk to her. How their voices are soft and everything is kind. No one's angry or disappointed, they'll love this baby and keep her. She'll be so loved.

"I've got an idea," Henry says, disappearing into the stores behind the crew quarters. He's been so good, so brave, because it can't be easy to see his step-mother in pain. Emma as only a little older when he was born, and she can't handle this. Not the quiet, or the softness of half-muttered conversations.

Killian meets her eyes and smiles. He's not even worried that the hook might not be comforting as it rests on Mal's back. He's there, whispering with his head near her hair. Regina stands beside her, hands near her hands on the warm wood of the hull. Regina who doesn't think she can keep the people she loves, who was so afraid to start over, to try again, Regina who has four children she adores after growing up so stilted.

Killian was a slave, to the crown, to Pan, to his own revenge, but here he is, warm and supportive, absolute committed to bringing this baby forth. 

Emma grabs the handle of the mirror so tight that it stings. This is her future, probably in a hospital, not here and she'll never be as calm as Mal is, but she won't be alone. Killian will be there, her parents if she wants them, Mal, Regina, Lily, Belle-- if she asks, she'll have family. People will care why her back hurts and try to make it better. 

They won't just let her suffer because she's a stupid girl who got pregnant and ended up in prison. She'll be worthy. A voice that sounds like Archie reminds her that she was worthy, that she should have been protected, that no wrongs in her past could mean that she deserved to suffer. Labor is not torture, nor a way of proving she's sinned. 

Henry returns, carrying a cannonball in both hands and Killian laughs, eyebrows up in pride. 

"That's a good idea."

Regina starts to protest but stops, because maybe it's all right. Henry passes it to Killian and Regina and they balance the heavy ball of iron against her back. 

"It's all right, it's better." How Mal even manages to speak to them is a minor miracle. Emma will never have her endurance. 

"Better." Regina leans close and kisses her cheek. "We're balancing explosives on your spine."

"But it works," Kilian says, all bright smile. "We wouldn't have had that back in Storybrooke."

"See, Regina?" Mal turns her head, nuzzling her forehead. "It's all right." 

"I don't think you understand what 'all right' means, at the very least, it's not being stuck in this...very charming sailing vessel."

"I like the ship."

"Of course you do."

Killian winks at Regina over Mal's shoulders. "We see eye to eye more than you realize, your majesty."

"Oh stop that." Regina takes a step back, and fuck, she's almost trembling. She's just as bad as Emma, but it's all internal. She's destroying herself on the inside because this is her wife, and she's here, and she hurts. 

"It's okay, Mom." Henry's too wise for a teenager, and he hugs her. "Come sit for a minute, have some tea." 

"Henry-"

"Go, dear." 

Emma would kill several terrible spider monsters if she could have a tiny bit of that kind of calm. She's probably never had it, ever. She nudges Regina towards Henry and the promise of a cup of tea and just not being everything for a minute or two. 

"Cannonballs are not something they covered in childbirth class, are they?" Killian teases.

"No, it's...strange they didn't come up before." 

"But it helps?"

"It helps." Mal pats Emma's hand, her fingers hot and wet with sweat. "You all help."

"Still bet you did it the dragon way, less o a mess."

Mal drifts, moaning a little before it turns into a sigh. "No."

"That way doesn't hurt?"

"It's...different...takes more magic. It's dangerous in a different way. I- I don't know if there's even enough magic in Storybrooke to have a baby in an egg." 

"Someday, you'll have to tell me," Emma says. "When I need a story."

Mal looks at her, really looks in the way that goes all the way through. "You have my word."

Killian watches them silently, and he must suspect something, he's too smart, and he knows she's late. Emma doesn't want to talk about it so they're not talking about it, but this is as close to talking about it as they can get right now. 

"I think blue. I haven't started knitting, because someone wasn't supposed to arrive until January."

"I'll chastise her when she arrives." 

"Naval blue," Emma says, rubbing Mal's back rather uselessly above the cannonball while pain takes her again. It's like drowning, always rising up, giving you a moment but coming back, harder, nastier, and pulling when you're tired. You only get more tired and it gets stronger, and then it's nothing but pain. 

But that's not Mal. She smiles in between contractions, sometimes during. When they move her to sit on one of the old potato barrels and rock back and forth, they talk. Regina talks about the wold world, where they used to go flying and the things they saw. 

Elephants were their favorite. 

Killian knows the far off places as well as Mal does, and he can fill in what the trees looked like or what the birds sounded like above them when mal can't find words anymore. Emma and Regina both worry about Henry, if they should send him away, have him sleep or do some useless task to keep him busy, because he's a child.

And not.

And this is life, not just pain and suffering, but community, friendship, family. Pain is met with love.

This is how it's meant to be, when you hurt someone takes your hand, someone whispers it'll be all right when you're bleeding, when you're afraid, and they have you, their hands are all around you, strong when you're not. 

There's no fear then.

And it doesn't hurt, not like it could, not like it did. It's a mess of sweat and breathing, red marks on skin from hands gripping too tight and shifting, rocking.

And they don't know what they're doing, not really, except, maybe they don't need to. Maybe they're just fortunate enough that biology can do this. That all that sweat trickingly, pooling on the deck with the fluid of birth means something. Means life. 

Women did of this in the other world. Women died in prison when their hearts gave out. This is dangerous. 

But it's life. 

Life is fear, and Emma's heart is only too aware of how big and terrifying everything is. She can't keep ball of cells safe any more than she can stop Maleficent's pain, or make this any easier for Regina, or Henry. 

If he watches all of this, will he be less afraid if he has children? Will he trust that there's a reason to this, that if they call come together in circles of arms and hands, that it's all right? 

All right. 

All calm. 

Still but for their breathing, quiet except for whispers and whines, whimpers.

It's still dark, not silent, but rushing, waves lapping, wind moaning like breath. It goes so fast after her water breaks. They're barely throwing towels down when Mal's staring at Regina and begging to push. 

She growls when Regina says no, we have to check.

"The cord, Mal, just let me."

"Regina--" 

"Wait."

"Think about elephants." Killian can't really distract her, but she turns her glare towards him, giving Regina a second to feel. 

"Henry, we'll need a blanket, string, my good dagger from the desk."

"Right." Kid's in a daze, but he's a good kid. The best kid. 

"Regina, I will--" 

Tear your heart out myself is probably the part Mal doesn't say, and Regina, for her part, glares back. 

"Wait, just wait, it's better if you push with the contraction." 

All that patience evaporates and there's something naked, inhuman, all the dragon Mal keeps back, in the way she stares Regina down. 

"Trust me." 

It's invasive that they're here, that they're watching this battle of will and affection because it's almost more intimate than sex. It's the hardest thing to ask and the hardest thing to do. All of her instinct must say it's time, it's now, and it burns. That Emma remembers so vividly that she can't breathe. It burns like you're dying. 

Hers was just pain, sobbing and screaming. 

And this is love. _ Trust me, wait for me, let me hold you, let me be yours.  _

She loves them, and it hits her hard as they wait, as they glare and Mal growls and Regina laughs and Killian kisses the back of Emma's hand. They'll be here, soon, together, and she won't be afraid. 

She'll trust. 

Have hope. 

Then tension breaks like the water. "Push now, push with it, we've got you."

We've got this.

It's all right.

It's calm. 

And sticky, dark, smelling like blood and sweat and sharp--

But they have her, Emma and Killian have her hands and Regina's forgotten to be afraid, to be tense and controlled because this is her daughter and the woman she loves and love, like a dragon is patient and warm until it's fire.

And it's everything. 

"Don't hold your breath, don't hold your breath, pant, stay with me, look at me."

Mal's voice is stilted, ragged. "I always want to look at you." Yet she's happy, There's no fear.

_ Fear is the mind killer.  _ There's no fear except fear itself and fuck is it a scary thing. It's horrid and demanding and it screams through Emma's brain when all she wants is the quiet. 

But Mal's not afraid, neither is Henry, or Killian, and all of them have forgotten Snow and the mirror on the table and maybe she hears Regina explain the headis out, that she sees her shoulders, that she's right there...

"Wait."

Mal mutters something that must be obscene in a language Emma doesn't know, because Regina's eyes go huge.

Or it's the baby.

She flails her arms and squishes her eyes shut and wails, indignant that it's cold but she's here, and Regina clutches her tight, tears running free. Henry hands her the softest thing he's found, and something breaks. Emma cries, chest aching, her tears in Mal's hair and on her shoulder, and Killian holds her and somewhere Regina and Killian talk about the cord and Mal holds the baby while Henry strokes her head. 

"She's blonde." Henry's words are the first thing to cut through any of their thoughts.

"What?"

"She's blonde, I think." Henry rubs a little of the funny white stuff off the baby's little head. "Look."

"That's not." Regina shakes her head before kissing Mal. "I didn't think we'd ever have a blonde." 

"Maybe she'll grow out of it."

Regina and Killian cut the cord between them, and they put the afterbirth on salt. Someone should check it, make sure it's all there, and Emma starts to move, but Killian stops her. 

"I've got it, love." 

So she just sits there, leaning against the side of the bed, beside Mal and Regina and Henry, staring at the red little baby who really wasn't supposed to come until January, and it's only just past Christmas. 

Henry only blushes a little when they get the baby to nurse, because he's a teenager and breasts are not really food, except when their his step-mom's and fuck he's a good kid. 

"She really is blonde," Regina says, kissing the baby's little hand. 

"What's her name?" Henry wonders and his moms look at each other. 

"We hadn't--"

"January, right," Killian teases, kissing Mal's forehead before he gets up and heads to the galley. They're probably all getting tea because sometimes he is so very much from that other world where tea is the answer to everything. 

"It's hard to chose."

Regina hugs Henry close and nods. "I knew you;d be Henry before I even held you, but Ara was harder to name, and this one."

"Little golden one," Mal whispers, stroking her head. "Perhaps she should have a sea name."

"Not Ursula."

"No, no, her own name." Maleficent rolls her eyes, looking at Emma. "Dragons don't use names that came before."

"You are not calling her little sea beast, or anything like that." Regina's not even joking, she's too smitten to be anything but adoring. 

"I like Orla," Killian says, returning with a tray of tea and biscuits, because he is. He would. 

"It would fit with Ara."

"Similar sounds." Mal looks up at him, and again, she radiates calm and contentment in a way Emma's never known. "What does it mean?" 

"Golden princess," Henry says, surprising them all. He holds up his phone and shrugs. "Internet works."

Emma opens and closes her mouth before she can speak. "What?"

"Reception came back. Guess it was the protection spell." 

"Which is no longer up, I suppose." Emma can't feel outward with her magic as fast as Mal or Regina, and the look they share suggests that yes, it's gone. 

Of course it's gone, they're safe. Everyone's safe. Emma knows that, really knows it, and the cold knot of being fucking terrified isn't in her stomach. She'll have to see Archie, and maybe see him a lot because she can't just say 'I watched Mal have a baby, I'm fine now.'

She's not really fine. She's closer, she's less afraid, and that's something. Killian passes her a hot mug of tea and he sits behind her, rubbing the back of her neck with his thumb. 

"It's down," Regina says, looking at Henry. "I guess we didn't need it."

Henry shrugs. "We're still on a boat."

Before Killian can defend his pride and joy, Regina adds, "A nice, sturdy little vessel that I may be more fond of now than I was before." 

"I knew you'd come around."

"I wish your hat was done," Emma says to the baby, staring at her little head. "But I might have picked the wrong color. You need clue."

"A nice naval blue," Mal adds.

"You remember?"

"Of course." She shifts the baby, and then hands her to Regina, stretching her arms. Somehow even covered in dry sweat, she's beautiful the way a goddess ought to be, with stray wisps of hair falling around her face. "You were wonderful, all of you."

"Mal--"

"You were." She slowly gets up, hanging on to Killian's shoulder and the beam of the ship, but she gains her feet. "You don't have that as a dragon. It's lonely."

"That's why you made yourself go through this? It's lonely to just lay and egg and be done with it?" Regina's incredulous expression melts when Mal kisses her. 

"I love you, all of you, and I didn't want a dark, lonely cave. This was wonderful." She inhales slowly, closing her eyes, and the air crackles, like a bonfire catching. Her skin shimmers, almost like it's scaled for a moment, and then she's clean, so is the deck,, and the scent of blood and fluid fades away. She keeps a grip on the doorway as she stretches her legs, finding her feet again. 

Henry hugs her, shy at first, then tight. "I'm glad it was okay."

"It was lovely, and warm, and I love the sea." She holds onto Henry, releasing the doorway. "I don't know if Regina can handle raising a princess."

"Hush, it's bad enough that my mother named me queen."

"I like it," Henry says, grinning at his mom and little sister. "It works with Mills." 

Mal smirks, because dragons don't have last names unless they marry precious humans who like theirs.  "Think of a good middle name, or we'll make Lily do it."

"We should call her."

"Use the mirror so she can see her sister."

Emma should get up and get the mirror, but Kilian's behind her and she's safe. She's exposed now, stripped of her defenses as if they went with the protection spell. Mal and Henry go to retrieve the mirror and find Snow absolutely dying for information. 

And Regina introduces their daughter with tears on her face. 

"This one's yours, you know," Emma teases Killian, nuzzling his cheek.

He glances down, at Emma and her very flat stomach. "I thought that one was."  

"To godfather," Emma explains, blinking away her tears. "You came up with her name."

"Being a godfather is a very serious responsibility." He kisses her hair, and fuck, if he cries she's just done. "Like being a father." 

"Soon," she whispers back. 'And it'll be okay."

"Perhaps a little less stressful, if possible."

They hold each other and watch Henry and Regina introduce a Lily and a sleepy Robin to the baby. 

Orla, it seems, is a little difficult for a child to say, but that makes it no less charming. 

Snow, of course, thinks it's perfect. 

And she is.

Beloved by all of them. 

Like they all are. 

_All is calm. All is bright._  She never sang that this Christmas. She missed it, but it’s all around her now. Love without conditions and apologies and feeling back because something might not be perfect. Regina and the baby sit in the bed, with Henry, and Mal once she’s content her legs work again. 

Naval blue. Emma knows just the pattern, and she’s had some practice. 


End file.
